Stay A While and Breath Me In
by HeavyMetalBabe
Summary: Alternate Universe: Slade is an Executive in a large corporation and recently hired a new assistant. Purposefulness staying away from women as they won't distract him from work, he finds this decision less than effective. One Shot Story.


Title: Stay A While and Breath Me In.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own the Teen Titans franchise in any way, shape, or form.  
><strong>Musical Inspiration: <strong>/Right This Second - Deadmau5 / The Way You Love Me – Keri Hilson / Self Control – Infernal / Iron – Woodkid / Every You, Every Me – Placebo  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M for Mature – Sexual Themes.  
><em>AN: _I haven't written in a very long time, not even the 10 novels I am currently in the middle of writing. I just haven't been inspired, as there has been a lot of negative in my life right now nothing seemed right enough to bring forth writing ideas. But I've been Brain Cracking around this idea for a while; I just had no juice to get the plot going. So I give you this one shot idea I've been toying with, hopefully this helps to release the rocky dam in my brain that is blocking my creative flow.

* * *

><p>"You asked for me, sir?"<p>

Slade looked up. It wasn't often when a voice would make his ears perk up and his train of thought crash. He observed the boy in front of him. There had always been something about him, something that had made him stop and just gaze. The contrast of those striking blue eyes and jet black hair would drive any man with an entirely left brained attitude into a frenzy of right brained impressionism. For a man who spent his entire career hidden behind numbers and calculations, the want – no, desire – to purchase the biggest canvas he could find and defile it with every colour, every brush stroke imaginable seemed outlandish to say the least.  
>Not that he was simply a boy, but the softness in his face pared with the harsh lines of his features gave him a wondrous appearance that simply could not be placed. A boy with a longing to be more, or was it a man who longed for rebellious youth? Of course, a person with his background would have both to be desired. But he was 23. Oh, youth.<br>Slade sat back in his chair, trying to direct his eyes to the work sprawled out on his desk – all of which seemed pointless at the moment. Pie graphs and prototypes were squiggles and childish sketches. They didn't matter, not at the moment.  
>"Yes, Robin. I need you to call Corporate and move the meeting to further in the week, as they requested. It seems that these analyses aren't correctly formatted and need to be reconfigured." He then motioned for him to go.<br>Robin nodded and said something along the lines of 'Yes, sir' but Slade was lost again in the boys appearance. Things seemed to move in slow motion as he traced the hard lines of the boys tailored suit and spectacularly fitted pants. He had made a fabulous choice in hiring this eager-to-please lad.  
>Not that this had been on his agenda from the beginning. Slade had had no interest in obtaining something to admire, but the call for an assistant was at hand. He had interviewed dozens that day and as it came down to it, he found it increasingly bothersome to continue on with the ditzy blond bimbos who had all but everything on display – run of the mill sexy secretaries. None of them had wanted to succeed further then being able to live up to the stereotype and in the way that some of them had eyed him he was more than certainly the case entirely. But then in walked this boy-wonder. Sharp-eyed and willing, his priorities set in stone; he was the perfect candidate. He was hired on the spot.<br>It wasn't until his second week on the job did Slade find himself more than just interested in this boy. He would catch himself just staring, blatantly gazing upon the subtle movements of the boy outside his office. It was something in the way he held himself, the way he presented himself. He was all man, all there. And it wasn't just himself who had notice. Clearly, the new assistant had become to talk of the office, several of the girls gathering in their nooks, giggling and ogling. They had every right. Robin was . . . something else, to be sure.

Days progressed like this. Slade was making up excuses for himself as to why this boy was so captivating. He told himself he was a spectacular specimen; something about the way he was all put together that stimulated the brain with its perfect symmetry. But then there was the way he moved, the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he was truly amused, the way his lips stayed parted when he was deep in thought, the way he bent slightly as he stood. He must have been a dancer of some sort, who else would move with such elegance. But of course he would, he was a bird after all and graceful as such, he fitted his name well.  
>It was now five months into his job and he was working out swimmingly. Everything was punctual and done to the highest standards. Nothing was ever out of place or misplaced under his watch. He was everything an executive could want in an assistant.<br>The day crawled on as Slade tried to return to the mismatched information in front of him. Of course, nothing made sense. It was all doodles and nonsense. He raised his head several times to look out through his office windows to study the boy, talking eagerly on the phone and typing excessively fast. _Distractions. _Slade thought, looking back down, then up and once more back down, rubbing his temples with his fingers.  
>The day was winding to a close as the clock ticked 5:30. Robin came to the door, it was well past his time to leave but he always did this. He would wait to be dismissed, without ever a word of complaint. Slade looked up upon his entering from his desktop screen. "Is there anything else, sir?"<p>

"There is. I need you to fax these out immediately and upon which follow up with a few of these clients. I know it's late, but they are behind us in time zones and it's an appropriate time to call them. Is that alright?"

Never a hint of disappointment crossed his body. He remained rigid and steady in his gaze and nodded, taking the copies from Slade's hands. He then retreated out his office and began to get to work. He would be there for at least three hours more.

Slade had been wrong in his ballpark of time; he was done in less than two hours. Slade was putting on his coat and scarf as he exited his office, turning as he walked to the desk of his assistant to see him hitting send, closing the computer down and turn to get up. There was an effortless flow from his fingers to his legs that just kept him watching. Slade came to the sudden realization that Robin was staring at him in a quizzical sort of way. He resumed replacing his scarf around his neck. "Good work today, Robin. Your performance is beyond standard." Robin nodded and thanked Slade. Something snaked between their eyes that made Slade fumble for a moment before resuming his buttoning of his jacket. They both exchanged their goodbyes and found their way to the exit; both without their share of composing exercises.

And that was the way it went, day after day until Slade thought for sure he was going to burst under the very idea that he had to watch this boy everyday in such close proximity. Most regular bosses would have already gotten the awkward tension out of the way by one of two reasons – firing or fucking. Slade, however stressed by his self created system of tension, was in no position to do either option. He needed an assistant, almost as badly as he needed to tear his clothes off.  
>He stopped at this thought and pondered on it a little more. Tear his clothes off? He couldn't seriously be considering . . . After all the work he went to in order to find not only a competent assistant but a male assistant at that so that this . . . this problem wouldn't arise? It was the symmetry, that's what it was. The brain was eagerly pleased by the ascetics of his build that was it. The brain was pleased by it all that was what it had to be.<p>

But he couldn't look away. The boy was exceptionally hard working today, exceptionally into what he should be into – and Slade was quite into it as well. He watched the boy at his station from outside his office as he typed away, answered phones and sipped his coffee in fluid, effortless motions. He tapped his pen subconsciously as he watched him, hours slipped by and all he did was watch and shoo others away upon entering his office. Work gathered dust on his pristine desk and before he knew any better, it was time to finish work. He cursed his lack of focus and began to organize himself. The phone rang as he finished tying his scarf and he groaned as he went to pick it up. The person on the other end of the line went on and on, making Slade stop in his tracks and take notes on what they were saying. What felt like hours trickled past and Slade raised his eyes, only for a moment to meet with Robin's glistening blue gaze. He didn't stand rigid, as per usual, but slanted against the doorframe, a foot crossed over foot and hands in his pockets. The world dropped out from under Slade for a moment, then came crashing back to catch him as the man on the other end of the line questioned his listening skills impatiently.

He looked down finishing a sentence, straightening up and bidding the caller farewell before turning his back to Robin and hung up. He adjusted his scarf, which really didn't need any adjusting before turning back to him. He tried to swallow but it felt as if his tongue had turned to dust. He was just standing there, looking over Slade before he stood up straight, his head slightly cocked to the side, his lips parted ever so slightly. There was nothing but silence that hovered around them. Neither of them spoke. Then Robin took a step forward, confidently. Slade just observed him; a strong clench in his jaw had the muscles in his face taunt with anxiety. The length of the man was seamless and stiff, protruding nothing but ego. But on the inside, it portrayed a much different story.

Robin came closer, looking Slade dead in the eye. His blue depths pierced right into his very mind, the smile tugging at the corners of his eyes told him so. Stray pieces of hair lined his face as he looked up at Slade. He was close, closer then what was suitable for co-workers. But Slade did nothing to stop it. Robin took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, taking in his scent. Slade's breath became choppy, stifled as he watched the boy. It was when their eyes locked that it all became too much for him. He tore off his coat and whipped it to the floor before taking the boys neck in his hands and pulling his closer. There came now resistance from Robin, he melted into him, as flowing as silk. Their lips came crashing together in the softest way possible. It was pure innocence at first, a gentle sweet thing that demanded no explanation. He just wanted a taste, one taste and Robin didn't refuse. But he then grabbed Slade around the waist and pulled him in tighter, opening his mouth to him and deepened the kiss.

His heart skipped a beat when he came to the sudden realization that he was kissing him. He broke for a second but was instantly pulled back by Robin dragging on the kiss. It became heated, sweaty; a terrible fight for dominance as the two destroyed one another in attempts to get closer. There was nothing sweet about the way they kissed each other now. A kaleidoscope of emotions and temptations rippled through their bodies that had Slade spinning Robin around and slamming him into the wall, holding his hands at the wrists above his head as he kissed him more vigorously. A gasp passed Robin's lips as his back met the wall but it was swiftly transformed into a moan as Slade made his way up the front of Robin's shirt with his free hand.

The hard plains of the boy's body made Slade's hair stand on end with desire. He dropped the boy's hands and with both of his own, tore open his button down shirt sending a spray of buttons into all directions. He pulled the boy close, placing a hand on the back of his neck and holding him tight. Robin, as if rehearsed, jumped up and wrapped his legs around Slade's waist. Feeling his desire, Slade thrust into Robin, causing him to break free from Slade's lips and groan aloud. "Don't tease me," he murmured as he kissed him again, managing also to pull Slade's shirt up over his head and tossing it aside.

There came not a word from Slade as he pushed the boy harder into the wall. He left his lips and travelled to his ear, his jaw line, his neck to his collar bone. Down the center of his chest to his flat stomach and across his navel. Robin's breath became heavy, pleading as he raked his fingers across Slade's skull, drawing him into his skin. His back left the wall for a moment and met it once more as Slade's lips found his again, kissing him. It was pure hunger that feed the kiss; sloppy and mad with desire; nothing could be done to stop it now.

Robin let his strength go and he slipped down from around Slade's waist, his belt gone in some form of mystery and then the top of his pants ripped open and nearly tearing them from his skin. He was breathless, stunned, in a state of shock that had his body moving beyond his control. The man had him entirely. His hands, mouth, eyes, body owned him completely and he let himself be taken over. The man held him strongly, peering into his eyes for not even a moment before he bestowed on Robin his desire. Again. And again. And again. There was nothing innocent about the ways Slade demonstrated his dominance, nothing romantic, not gentle. It was animalist, barbaric, desire ridden, pure and raw.

Ever inch, thrust and pulsation was taken with complete need. There was a point, where Robin's stamina began to fade and he looked into Slade's eyes and he just stopped, sweat twinkling and beading his skin. The flame of desire and unbridled need danced behind his eyes. The position was uncomfortable, the area inappropriate, the situation inexcusable. But Robin leaned into him and kissed him tenderly, the softest thing about their collision.

And when it all came to an abrupt, but required halt did concern flash across Slade's face, but he made no attempt to speak. Robin just observed him, the same questioning thoughts surfacing in his own mind. Thoughts, notions, concerns, ideals all came crashing back with realty as the two pulled apart from the other. The state of the small office was in shambles. There was a crack in the wall where Slade had thrust too hard and pushed Robin's hand through the wall. Papers were all over the floor, along with strewn clothes and a few things that had broken along the way. There was a tremendous pause that surfaced between them, before they got up and began to dress. They didn't speak, didn't look at one another. And as Robin turned to leave, he looked up at Slade. There was no emotion on his face, nothing that stated anything about what had just happened. The darkness of the office began to suck him in as he started to disappear.

"Robin."

He looked up at the sound of his name and Slade walked up to him and tipped his chin up to look at him in the eyes. They glistened with understand, but sadness and maybe regret? Hopefully not. But Slade leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, just a brush, and a light touch. They were doing a lot of gazing today, but neither of them could speak, especially not after what happened.

"You're still expected to be on time tomorrow."

The comment was unexpected, but Robin smiled. Maybe the first time he had actually smiled around Slade since he started at this job. And how often he had wanted to. He nodded, but made no attempt to do anything else. Slade released his chin and nodded for him to go.

And he did.

That was until the next morning, where he came in clean pressed, bags under his eyes but to the nines none the less. He sat at his desk and looked through the viewing room. The office was pristine, as usual. He must have been here late. He was talking to an employee and looked up for a moment and caught eyes with Robin. A smile twisted his extremely serious face, before he erased it and turned his attention back to the other employee.

Robin smiled to himself but soon set right to work. He waited months for that moment, another moment he could try to be as patient for. Try being the operative word. But from the look on Slade's face from last night, he knew he wouldn't have to wait too long.

8 hours, to be exact.


End file.
